Free Eve Silver by His Dark Kiss Page A

through her veins, she could not look at him. He was too close, and her mood was too uncertain.
    She made to look away, but her attention was snared by Lord Anthony's breeches and boots. Fawn colored breeches. Mud-caked Hessians . Like those she had glimpsed in the shrubbery outside the icehouse. At a frantic pace, her thoughts capered this way and that, sending a dark edginess through her, an ugly distress.
    Had it been Lord Anthony at the icehouse, his eerie laughter taunting her while the chill air pricked her skin and the black pit loomed before her?
    Emma shook her head to clear it, forcing her thoughts back to the present, inviting her practical nature to ease her fears. The same mud was on the drive, or the field, or any garden to be found on the estate, not to mention the stables, where she knew with certainty Lord Anthony had been. No sinister secret lay in that mantle of drying dirt. Someone else had skulked in the bushes. Someone evil.
    “Miss Parrish, you are no longer flushed.” There was a touch of irony in Lord Anthony’s tone. “You are now white as a shroud.”
    “I have something on my mind, my lord,” she mumbled.
    “Some thing ? Or some one ?”
    Emma met his sardonic gaze. Did he know, then, that he haunted her every thought, her every secret wish? The corners of his mouth curved slightly, deepening the dimple in his cheek. She wanted to touch that mouth, to run her fingers over the full lips, to test their softness. She felt her cheeks heat once more.
    “Allow me to correct myself. You are, indeed, flushed.” Again he laid the back of his hand on her skin, this time in a gentle caress along her cheek, her chin. Her skin tingled each place he touched, and she bit back a moan.
    His smile broadened. She was stunned by the warm glow that cascaded through her. Perfection. Yes. She had wanted the beauty of his smile turned on her, and here he had done just that. A flash of white, straight teeth. Drat the man! Even his teeth were beautiful.
    “Miss Emma!” Nicky’s call broke the intoxicating spell. “I put in all the sugar! What shall I do next?”
    “Oh! You must…that is….”
    Lord Anthony dropped his hand to his side, his gaze shuttered, his smile fading. “My son has impeccable timing, and I have pressing business.” He inclined his head. “I bid you good afternoon.”
    Disappointment warred with relief. Emma dragged in a breath, turning her attention to Nicky, helping him add the egg whites to the mixture. But she could not resist a single sidelong glance at Lord Anthony as he departed. Broad, square shoulders. Narrow hips. Tight buttocks that bunched with each step.
    Dear heaven, she was chasing madness.
    She let out a long, slow sigh, wondering what it was about this unfathomable, inscrutable man that drew her like a flower to the sun, and why, despite rumor, innuendo and indeed her own first hand knowledge of his oft intimidating nature, she could not find it in herself to believe anything but good about him.
    Perhaps she was a woman of rare insight.
    She shook her head. Perhaps she was a deluded, infatuated fool.
    o0o
    In the weeks that followed, though she wished it otherwise, Lord Anthony haunted Emma’s thoughts, invaded her dreams. Each time their eyes met across the drive or through a doorway, she was painfully aware of the thrill that spiraled through her at the mere sight of him. Her mind whispered of the danger, but she could not seem to stop this elemental reaction, this fascination with the man.
    Yet, there was more to his appeal than mere physical beauty. He was unfailingly polite to her, nay, more than that, he was genuinely interested in her thoughts and opinions, listening with careful attention during their morning discussions over breakfast with Nicky.
    There was the loving kindness he bestowed on his son. The way he swung the child up onto his shoulders and strode along the drive, or joined their lessons for a brief time, encouraging, supporting. Ever the fine